


In Which Jim Does Not Overstay His Welcome

by Rubynye



Category: Star Trek XI
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Sex Pollen, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-21
Updated: 2010-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:26:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://taraljc.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://taraljc.livejournal.com/"><b>taraljc</b></a>'s prompt "Kirk/McCoy/Chapel -- hangover cure".<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Jim Does Not Overstay His Welcome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taraljc](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Taraljc).



Jim wakes up with his back crammed against a wall -- can't be his bed, then -- and his neck slightly cricked, and much more importantly, a soft-skinned female-scented person in his arms and an extra, larger hand draped over his waist. His brain feels a little sparkly-fuzzy, the girl smells almost as delicious as an Orion (and Jim would know) and the other person smells warm, male and familiar.

 _Huh,_ Jim thinks, his nose tickling -- his face rests in a cloud of soft silky hair. He eases one eye open and sees slanted pink morning light through arched strands of glittering gold. A blonde, then, with a sweetly curved, lushly naked ass pressed up tight against his belly and his dick already awake and brushing the crease of her thigh. It helpfully suggests the obvious plan of action, but while Jim's dick is one of his very best friends, he needs everyone to be on board before anything gets implemented, as it were. No matter how good the blonde girl feels sleeping warmly in his arms.

Jim fishes his hand out from beneath the girl's tender weight and levers up his head, which weighs the familiar metric ton of a mid-grade hangover but surprisingly doesn't actually hurt very much. Two blinks and the other guy in the bed comes into focus, face down in the blonde's far shoulder but Jim would know that thick brown hair anywhere. His heart does a little jig at the sight of Bones naked and rumpled and obviously ridden gorgeously hard, bites along his sturdy neck and broad shoulders, and if he's hungover in bed with Bones then this lovely girl must be -- yeah, Bones's favorite nurse. Jim recognizes her now, the handsome line of her firm jaw and her soft rosy mouth, and her name's something religious, teetering on the edge of his brain.

Jim closes his eyes, thinking hard to assemble the jagged bits of the previous night. There was a party, and Bones brought -- Christine, that's her first name, but not the really religious part. Jim gets sidetracked remembering how they kept insisting they were friends, blushing and refusing to look at each other; Gaila laughed at them and kissed them both, and Mitchell had a bottle of something he said wouldn't cause hangovers that Gaila recognized --

 _Oh,_ Jim thinks, twitching down to his morning wood (which keeps up a steady insistent throb in his lizard brain, tucked as it is against Christine's silky thigh). Gaila said it was Orion, Mitchell said it was delicious, Bones grumbled but had a swig and so did everyone, and it tasted like girls smell behind their ears. It tasted really good.

This is Christine's -- chapel, Jim thinks. No, _Chapel_ , that's her name. They walked her back to her dorm and here they all are -- yeah, that's their uniforms scattered across the floor, Jim sees beyond the bed. Floor and dresser and Bones's lucky blue jockeys made it up onto the light fixture. Jim sighs as memories come cascading back, each one more painfully delicious than the last -- it was a hell of a threesome. Chapel's wicked and awesome and Jim can remember how she tastes, his mouth watering, and the sound of Bones actually laughing as she shoved Jim to his knees, and maybe if Jim hopes hard enough they'll wake up ready to go for Round Two.

Bones groans, and shudders, and heaves his head up to glance blearily across Chapel. "Jim?" he booms, ow, there's the headache Jim was expecting, and as he recoils against the wall Bones winces too. "What the Hell?" Bones whispers, yanking his hand off Jim's waist to press it to his ear. "What did you do?"

"What did _I do_?" Jim hisses, because Bones drank from Mitchell's bottle of happiness of his own free will, and he'd say as much but Chapel shivers awake quite distractingly.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," she groans, covering her face with her hands. "I'm awake, aren't I."

"Afraid so," Bones says in a cracked voice, his ears turning red before Jim's wondering eyes. "I'm truly sorry and I hope one day you can forgive me," as he swings those long legs of his out of her bed, "and we'll just be going now," with a vigorous jerk of his head as he rolls to sitting, leaning towards their clothes and the door and the direction of no more fun.

Figures. Jim considers grabbing for Bones, discards that tactic and instead stays right where he is as he politely tells Christine, "Good morning." Chapel looks up from under her hand at him, and she really does have lovely eyes, warm blue in the golden dawn light. "How's your head?" Jim's own headache's fading to a dull throb, much quieter than the insistent drumbeat in his blood and his dick.

Holding her hand like a visor -- lovely hand, long strong fingers, he hopes he can feel it again really soon -- Christine stares up at Jim for another moment, then smiles, and his breath stops, arrested by lust and astonishment. "Fine, thank you." She reaches sideways, settling her other hand atop Bones's, and Jim _approves_. "Maybe better." That breathtaking smile sharpens into the gorgeously wicked one Jim remembers from last night, and he wouldn't keep from grinning back even if he could.

Bones sighs gustily. Christine grins and lifts her head to kiss Jim, and she tastes better than anyone just waking up has any right to, warm and sweet like lipstick and rum.

"Chris," Bones worries, and Jim can hear the furrows sinking into his forehead even before looking up to see them, "are you sure?" He looks at Chapel helplessly, and tries to make it a glare when he shifts his gaze to Jim, but all the formidable eyebrowery at his disposal can't hide the hopeful darkness in his blown green-gold eyes. "I don't want--"

"I do," she says, turning towards Bones, which lets Jim smirk at him across her tenderly dimpled shoulder, "I'm sure I want you both to stay. As long as you get that look off your face, Kirk."

Jim widens his eyes into innocence. "Who, me?"

Bones rolls his. "See what I have to put up with?"

Christine smacks Jim's arm gently as she shifts onto her back, and Jim sees all over again why Bones likes her -- even beyond those gorgeous breasts. "Is he always like this?" she asks Bones, her hand sliding up Jim's back and nape to cup his head.

"Usually worse," Bones tells her, but his cheek's creasing and he's turning around again, good. Jim generously lets that one pass in favor of watching their smiles sweeten as they trade a glance, as Bones leans in and kisses her. And he certainly enjoys watching them kiss, two lush mouths caressing each other.

In fact, because he's such a nice guy, Jim waits until the kiss tapers off and they're resting their foreheads together, eyes closed, every line smoothed away from Bones's face as Christine smiles, to say, "Bones, man, I'm so glad you could join us!"

Bones growls and Jim holds still for it as he reaches over, Christine laughs, and their combined hands push Jim's face down onto her breast, which, as he shapes his lips around her perking nipple and listens to the luscious wet sounds of another kiss, he considers a pretty awesome place to be.


End file.
